My head snapped up instantly, relief rushing through me for half a second because I thought it was my lawyer.
But it wasn’t.
Matteo walked in instead.
He looked completely composed, like he hadn’t slept in chaos or betrayal or anything at all—perfect suit, perfect posture, not a single crease out of place. His face, however, was carved with something colder than anger.
Disappointment. Contempt.
“Aria,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to someone foolish. “What exactly have you done now?”
My voice dropped to a whisper. “You know what happened. You were there—”
I didn’t even get to finish.
His hand came fast.
The impact of the slap rang through the room, sharp and humiliating. My head turned with the force of it, my cheek burning instantly.
“Matteo!” one of the officers snapped, standing up, but Matteo only raised a hand slightly, as if apologizing for a minor inconvenience.
“I’m sorry,” he said smoothly, though his tone carried none of it. “It’s just… difficult watching her behave like this after everything she’s done.”
I could taste blood in my mouth, metallic and bitter. “You…” My voice shook. “You actually hit me.”
He didn’t even look at me when he answered the officers.
“My wife—soon to be ex-wife, hopefully—assaulted my son,” he said calmly. “She also attacked my mistress when she tried to stop her. She’s unstable. We’ve been trying to get her professional help for a while now, but she refuses treatment.”
My stomach dropped.
“Mistress?” I whispered, disbelief barely forming the word. “You’re really saying that out loud now?”
His gaze finally shifted to me, steady and unbothered. “Yes. She’s currently in the hospital. Bruised. Possibly worse. And Mason…” He paused, shaking his head like it pained him to continue. “He’s terrified of you.”
“You’re lying,” I said immediately, shaking my head. “All of it.”
He leaned slightly forward. “Then prove otherwise.”
But I had nothing. No recordings. No witnesses who would speak for me. No one.
That night, they processed me anyway.
I barely registered the ride to the station, only flashes of camera lights, reporters shouting questions I couldn’t understand, and the word murder floating around like a curse I couldn’t wash off.
By morning, they said I could be released on bail while the investigation continued. It sounded like relief, but it wasn’t.
It felt like a trap dressed as mercy.
All I wanted was to go home.